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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26419363">a little lace</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vermeillons/pseuds/vermeillons'>vermeillons</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Small Town AU [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Condoms, Costumes, Fingering, First Time Blow Jobs, Lingerie, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Pining, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Fantasy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:20:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,541</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26419363</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/vermeillons/pseuds/vermeillons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24390238">king-sized</a>.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Small Town AU [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866964</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>107</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a little lace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazywineaunt/gifts">crazywineaunt</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was originally supposed to be a Halloween fic called fun-sized, but I made lamen 18 for tags’ sake. </p>
<p>Can’t believe it took me this long to write a proper lamen smut fic, smh my head.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Cool, so you're going too?"</p>
<p>"Uh, yeah," Laurent blinked.</p>
<p>"Great!" The dimple in Damen's cheek deepened for a moment, and he clapped Laurent on the shoulder before heading off to woodshop.</p>
<p>Laurent wasn’t sure the ground beneath his feet wouldn't shatter from the pounding of his heart. Damen had just asked him if he was going to Pallas' party. And he'd seemed genuinely happy when Laurent said he was. Laurent wished he could have shared in that same kind of simple excitement.</p>
<p>Would Damen dress up? Of course he would, he loves theme parties—<em>especially</em> toga parties, but that was just an excuse not to wear pants. Laurent wasn't about to complain.</p>
<p>Who would he arrive as? Heracles? Achilles? How might he react if Laurent came to him as their beloved Hylas and Patroclus? Helen of Troy?</p>
<p>Maybe he should wear a tight-fitting superhero costume? Leave everything, and nothing, to the imagination.</p>
<p>Laurent decided against that, seeing as how the only superhero movies he'd ever seen were the ones his brothers had dragged along him to. Pretentious as it sounded, Laurent much preferred the films of an auteur over a glorified toy commercial.</p>
<p>Riffling through his closet, he recovered the bloodied remnants of a Hamlet costume from last year's school play. Then a pair of leather boots his mother had given him upon discovering they were too small for her feet. An old pair of leather riding gloves. And finally, a shining, plastic sword he’d kept from Auguste's hand-me-down Lancelot costume.</p>
<p>There was something here, on the tip of his tongue.</p>
<p>Laurent glanced at his bookshelf for inspiration, a massive tome striking him in gilded letters:</p>
<p>
  <em>Les Trois Mousquetaires </em>
</p>
<p>Athos it was, then. He eventually found a wide-brimmed hat with a cloud of plumage on one side. Lifting it from the floor, Laurent spied an all-too-familiar box.</p>
<p>Old, brown, and dented—entirely unassuming. He opened it carefully, as though handling glass fresh from the kiln. As though it would burn right through his hands. Laurent stared down at the contents.</p>
<p>A set of flouncy lingerie Lazar had gotten him as a gag gift for his birthday. Laurent's face had gone white as the lace trim when he'd first held it up.</p>
<p>"<em>I had to guesstimate the cup-size.</em>"</p>
<p>"<em>How large did you think his chest was?</em>" Vannes had asked.</p>
<p>"<em>What letter comes after Z?</em>"</p>
<p>The panels of silk warmed in his hands, a soft baby blue that would complement Laurent's eyes. The garter belt would hold up his stalkings, and the thong was easier to remove than briefs, and why not wear the bra by that point?</p>
<p>By the time he got his boots on, he was already in the foyer.</p>
<p>"Where are you going, Laurent?" His father didn't even glance up from his crossword.</p>
<p>"To a friend's house."</p>
<p>Father's icy gaze flicked over him. "<em>D'Artagnan?</em>"</p>
<p>"<em>Athos</em>."</p>
<p>"<em>Pardon</em>."</p>
<p>Laurent suddenly felt childish, clumsy in his new boots that gave an ostentatious <em>click</em> with every step. He crushed that feeling down, grabbed his wallet and keys, and made for the door.</p>
<p>"And, Laurent," Father said. "Do be back before midnight. You need to practice for your speech."</p>
<p>"I know," Laurent said as he shut the front door a little too loudly.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The party was already in full swing when he arrived. Thankfully, no one had yet to pass out drunk on the front lawn. At the door was a bowlful of condoms, like some sort of kinky Halloween offering, but of course Pallas would have those lying around for when Lazar was horny enough to fuck him right up against the front door, as Laurent had so often been told.</p>
<p>In fact, it was Lazar who had first invited Laurent, and dramatically feigned dismay at having been rejected. Pallas had invited him too, a customary courtesy as salutatorian to Laurent's valedictorian. Either of them seeing him here would only arouse suspicion.</p>
<p>Tipping his hat low, Laurent began scanning the rooms for Damen.</p>
<p>He spotted him, of course, in the middle of a moshpit, chanting alomg to Taylor Swift's <em>Love Story</em>, of all things. A good head taller than everyone else, his dark curls bounced along with him, cheeks red from laughter. When he squeezed his way through the crowd, Laurent felt a storm brew in his stomach.</p>
<p>The sight of Damen in a homemade chiton, all broad shoulders, and muscled legs, just barely covered by a thin white bedsheet. A jolt down Laurent’s spine as Damen approached him.</p>
<p>“I'm glad you could make it."</p>
<p>"I am too," said Laurent. "I'm glad you could make it." Eager to change the subject, "Nice Perseus, your aegis came out great."</p>
<p>A smile broke out on Damen's face, blinding even in the dim light of plastic candles. "Oh, thank you! I thought the Medusa head would look nicer as a shield. Your costume is great too. Three Musketeers, right?"</p>
<p>"Yeah."</p>
<p>"You read it in French, right?" Damen said, recollection warm in his voice. "Guion was so pissed. It was awesome."</p>
<p>"Yeah," Laurent said, fiddling with the excess of his belt strap. "So, do you want to dance, maybe?"</p>
<p>Damen raised a brow at him, "Do <em>you</em>?"</p>
<p>The thought of being trapped between drunken sweating strangers, and mouthing along to songs he didn't know wasn’t appealing in the slightest. Laurent said, "No, I don't."</p>
<p>Nodding, Damen put a hand on Laurent's shoulder, inclined his face downwards. Quietly, "I'll get you a drink."</p>
<p>When he was gone, Laurent couldn't stop it then—his face burning as he stood alone in the middle of a room filled with people he didn't talk to, music pounding in his ears, the taunting <em>Congrats! </em>banners that lined the walls.</p>
<p>
  <em>Congrats! You’re in the 90th percentile! Congrats! You’ll probably never speak to these people again!</em>
</p>
<p>He nudged his way through the crowd, fleeing to the balcony outside what was almost certainly Pallas' parent's room.</p>
<p>Laurent's back hit the wall. He sank. Took a deep breath in, and let it out. The pool and alfresco below were swarmed with partygoers, music pounding into the bricks and against Laurent's skull. His hat sat discarded beside him.</p>
<p>The lingerie had been pleasant, at first, but he certainly wasn't going to be showing it off to Lazar. Going commando might have been more fun. It had been fun the last time he'd done it, the day after he'd fucked himself open on his own bedpost. God, he hadn't been able to walk straight that entire day—telling people his ankle was bothering him.</p>
<p>After only half a day, he'd gotten horny enough to lock himself in the bathroom and make himself come on his fist. It might have been him sweating under all those layers, but Laurent's body began warming. He let his legs fall open.</p>
<p>Someone opened the balcony door.</p>
<p>"<em>Laure—?</em>"</p>
<p>"<em>Shit—</em>"</p>
<p>Laurent scrambled to put himself back together.</p>
<p>"Sorry, it's just me," Damen's voice came out silhouetted. <em>I didn't mean to scare you, </em>he didn't say. "Mak took your drink."</p>
<p>He shut the door, settling beside Laurent. Laurent caught sight of his dark nipples in the gap where his chiton fell away from his body as he bent down, and willed himself to not blush. It was shorter sitting down.</p>
<p>“I’m not out here because of the drink."</p>
<p>Damen said, "What's wrong?"</p>
<p>Laurent said, "Nothing's wrong. I like you."</p>
<p>Damen said, "Well, I like you too, Laurent."</p>
<p>"No, not like that. More than that. I'm," Sharper than he meant, "<em>attracted</em> to you."</p>
<p>"Yeah, I know. And I'm attracted to you too. I like you, Laurent."</p>
<p>"<em>What?</em>" Laurent's words sounded twisted even to his own ears, "<em>What the hell are you talking about?</em>"</p>
<p>"Did I do something wrong?" Damen was looking at him wide-eyed, confused and slightly wounded. It wasn't fair to him.</p>
<p>Laurent turned himself towards Damen, their legs coming to touch. "How long have you liked me?"</p>
<p>He heard the catch of Damen's breath in his throat and longed to follow it.</p>
<p>"I've always liked you."</p>
<p>It was stifling, spring air and evening mist and fallen petals and oranges, overripe and heavy on their branches. Damen smelled of budding summer. Sweet and tempting. Laurent mused of how Damen's clothes carried the same, sugary scent. Mused of what it was like in his bed.</p>
<p>There was warmth at Laurent's cheek, the span of Damen's hand cupping his face and drawing Laurent even closer. Damen kissed him to stillness—his hand meant not to trap but to steady.</p>
<p>After a moment, Laurent leaned into him.</p>
<p>He opened his mouth, let Damen in, who came to him eagerly yet careful as ever. His mouth was hot, his tongue was hot, the air was hot.</p>
<p>Pulling back with a quiet gasp, Laurent brought a hand to his lips in disbelief. He could feel the erratic pulse of blood and warmed further at the thought that Damen might have stolen his heartbeat straight from his mouth.</p>
<p>"Oh," Damen said. "Sorry. Did you not want—?"</p>
<p>It was Laurent who pulled them together this time. Insistent and hungry, desperate to swallow any remnant out of doubt still clinging to them like raindrops on eyelashes. As they had on that one serendipitous day, sorrow sticky and cold.</p>
<p>Damen sighed into the kiss, smiled as he moved to Laurent's cheek, above his eye, everywhere he could place his lips to Laurent.</p>
<p>A hand gently placed over the fluttering of Laurent's throat and the crest of his hip bone. He moved with such sweetness that Laurent's voice cracked when he said, "Don't leave marks."</p>
<p>Damen nuzzled his neck.</p>
<p>"You're not listening."</p>
<p>A hum of agreement against the hidden spot behind Laurent's ear. Both hands on Laurent’s hips now, Damen brought their bodies flush. Laurent braced himself, fingers curling around Damen's bare arms. The pin on his chiton was<em> right there</em>. The plastic carved edges of the lion's mane barely registered through his gloves. In one fluid movement, Laurent removed it, exposing Damen's chest.</p>
<p>All of him was gorgeous.</p>
<p>Beautifully carved, barely contained within smooth olive skin. The urge to touch him overwhelmed any other thought or instinct in that moment. Before he could stop himself, Laurent's gloves were off, Damen's heartbeat in his hand, the ghostly outline of his presence heady.</p>
<p>Damen must have felt it too, pushing off Laurent's coat. Stripping layers did nothing to cool them. They removed Laurent's pants together, from buckle to button. Damen's firm grip threatened to rip the breeches from him, and Laurent chuckled as he helped him.</p>
<p>And then Damen stopped. Held himself back like a man at a cliff face. Running a curious finger along the petals of lace peeking out from the flowing length of Laurent's shirt, he said, "What is that?"</p>
<p>"My thong."</p>
<p>"Your—<em>your thong</em>."</p>
<p>"Yes." Laurent grasped his shirt hem. "Would you like to see it?"</p>
<p>"<em>Show me.</em>"</p>
<p>The way he said it, dark and thick, as though there were nothing he wanted more than Laurent, sent him into a bashful spiral, undeserving of such overt desire. Laurent kept his gaze on Damen's face, attuned himself to every shift of brow and cheek and lip, every glint off his deep, brown eyes. The breeze tickled at Laurent's thighs.</p>
<p>"Do you like it?" he asked. Damen's only response was to kiss him again. Laurent smiled against his mouth.</p>
<p>"You know," Laurent said. "you're all I ever think about. I don't give myself much." He carded his fingers through Damen's curls: soft, satisfying. He'd oddly been wanting to do that the entire night. He wanted a reason to tug at them.</p>
<p>"That day in the parking lot, when you shared your umbrella with me, put your jacket around my shoulders. I thought my heart was going to beat right out of my chest."</p>
<p>"Laurent."</p>
<p>"I knew I wanted you then."</p>
<p>"<em>Laurent</em>."</p>
<p>"I don't know what I'm saying anymore."</p>
<p>Laurent found himself in Damen's lap, the silk of his thong stretched thin against his cock. Damen rolled his hips, hardness forming between his legs, tenting the flimsy, store-bought chiton.</p>
<p>"Fuck me," Laurent said.</p>
<p>"I don't have a condom," Damen said.</p>
<p>There was an entire bowl downstairs. "It's fine."</p>
<p>"But—"</p>
<p>Wrapping his arms around Damen's neck—in a voice meant only for him—Laurent said, "I want you inside me, Damen."</p>
<p>He’d surely gone mad with lust. <em>Fuck me. I want you inside me.</em> What was he even saying?</p>
<p>Damen's own arms came to encircle him at the waist and shoulders, their hearts beating against one another’s. "I want you," he said. "But we're on a balcony without condoms or lube."</p>
<p>"I know this."</p>
<p>"We can't do this here."</p>
<p>Laurent frowned, shifting back from Damen's chest.<em> I can feel your cock. </em>"I don't see why not."</p>
<p>"Don't pout, sweetheart." Damen gave a quick peck to the corner of Laurent's mouth. "I don't leave anyone unsatisfied."</p>
<p><em>Anyone. </em>Laurent bit the thought between his lips as Damen pushed up his shirt. He could see the edge of the bra. He could see how hard Laurent was. A wet spot had formed where his arousal had leaked through the thong.</p>
<p>Wordlessly, Damen slid it down. Without a cursory glance, he took Laurent in hand and applied his mouth before Laurent had managed to wrap his mind around the situation.</p>
<p>Laurent buried his moan in his elbow, keeping his arm over his mouth lest someone below catch wind of what they were doing. Damen, on the other hand, paid no mind to his surroundings.</p>
<p>His tongue swirled around the head, before trailing down the entire length. Laurent's hips bucked as Damen massaged his balls.</p>
<p>Damen swallowed him deep, mouth warm and wet around his cock, a wonderful pressure. Laurent needed movement, friction, <em>something</em>. As Damen tongued the slit, beading with precome, he glanced up through dark lashes, as if to gage Laurent's pleasure. He dipped his tongue into the slit. Laurent gasped.</p>
<p>Damen's hand was on Laurent's: a white-knuckled fist in his shirt. Damen guided it to his hair, placing it there with a gentle squeeze.</p>
<p><em>Oh. </em>Laurent tangled his fingers into the mess of dark curls. Tested his grip.</p>
<p>Picking up speed, Damen's mouth was everywhere—suckling the head, biting his thighs. <em>Don't leave marks</em>, but Laurent was trembling from it all, the swell of his orgasm building inside him.</p>
<p>And despite himself, he cried out, "<em>Damen. Damen.</em>" As he had on so many nights to nothing but frigid, dead air.</p>
<p>Heat shimmered around him now, the air alive and electric as Damen's voice returned to him, "<em>Laurent</em>."</p>
<p>Laurent's body collapsed into something solid. Neither cold nor unyielding, but solid. He pressed his face into Damen's chest.</p>
<p>"Did you like that?" Damen kissed the top of his head, a hand soothing down his nape.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Laurent said. "<em>Did you swallow?</em>"</p>
<p>A pause.</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>Breathlessly, "You're going to be the end of me."</p>
<p>In his want to be closer, Laurent's knee nudged against Damen, causing him to inhale sharply.</p>
<p>Laurent said, "You're still so hard." He spoke into the hollow of Damen's throat. "I can fix that for you."</p>
<p>It was a quick yet mortifying text to Ancel. Slip a packet of lube and a condom under the door to the master bedroom. <em>A large condom. </em>Damen was red in the face when he came back out to the balcony. It only took a few words from Laurent to have him flushed for entirely different reasons. And the next thing he knew, Damen was fingering him over the balcony's table.</p>
<p>Laurent felt every hurried dip of the fingers into his body, belly flush to the table, hands braced on the edges. He was still in his lingerie, surprisingly. The brief stretch of fabric that was his thong has been pushed aside for quick and easy access. Crotchless next time. Just forgo the undergarments altogether.</p>
<p>The fingers inside him were so much larger than his own, calloused from practices and workouts, grinding against his sensitive inner walls. Hips pushing back to meet Damen's increasingly fevered attentions, Laurent groaned, "<em>Fuck me. Please. I need you to just—I can't—</em>"</p>
<p>"<em>I know. I know. Let me.</em>"</p>
<p>Damen's other hand moved from it's anchor-point in the small of Laurent's back. A slight rustle and the shadow of a hand searching for the condom.</p>
<p>A small sound slipped out of Laurent's mouth as Damen removed his fingers with an obscene <em>squelch</em>, whining at the loss. The light pressure against his hole was different now. Watchful. Hesitant. Laurent said, "I know what I can take. You don't have to be so gentle."</p>
<p>"Not everything is about you."</p>
<p>Laurent rocked his hips back, and Damen rewarded him with a moan.</p>
<p>"Isn't it?" Laurent pushed himself up. Palms flat on the table, a leg arching up to meet them, resting on the body-warmed wood, he reached back to spread himself open. He felt a drop of slick leak from his hole, trailing downwards. "I told you to <em>fuck me</em>."</p>
<p>Laurent wondered when he'd grown so bold.</p>
<p>It was everything. That first, slow press into his body, he'd been empty of affection far too long. Hot breathes and hot kisses into the crook of his neck. Hands fitting where they belonged in the dip of his waist. Forgetting where one ends and the other begins—everything.</p>
<p>Quietly, "I'm going to move."</p>
<p>Damen had prepared him well, a gentle glide on skin. A shallow pace, but even, very even, easy to adjust to. Laurent briefly worried if he would be considered tight enough and clenched around the cock inside him. Damen took that as some sort of affirmation and sped up, a loud <em>slap</em> accompanying each drive of his hips into Laurent's.</p>
<p>“<em>Oh fuck</em>." Laurent's head dropped forward with a shuddering breath. "<em>God, you're so big. It feels huge. Right there, right there.</em>"</p>
<p>His words rushed out of him like a dying man's final breath. Inhibitions lost to the sounds of the party around them, a ceaseless rhythm. What if someone heard them? Went to investigate and saw Laurent getting fucked into the furniture. Would they even believe it? His small frame able to take Damianos Akielos of all people, all red from his cheeks to his nipples. And the lingerie, where the hell would Laurent have come by such a thing in that house of his?</p>
<p>Damen was hilting every time, pushing whimpers and aborted moans from Laurent with each perfect slide. He was better than the bedpost. One particularly well-aimed thrust sent that wonderful, white-hot fire through Laurent's veins.</p>
<p>Suddenly, he was being drawn back, flush to Damen's body, thick arms coming to wrap around Laurent's hips and chest. Wandering hands, toying with his nipples, rolling the stiffened peaks between his fingers, <em>god</em> those fingers. Laurent yelped as Damen reached down for his cock, pushing the thong aside, taking him, and making him squirm with slow, steady pumps.</p>
<p>Laurent was stuck like that. Any movement would fuck him forward into Damen's grip or backward onto his cock. Had Damen not been supporting his weight, Laurent was sure he'd have collapsed.</p>
<p>Damen was close—so so close—if his hot breath on Laurent's nape was any indication. He was deep enough to not just drive into Laurent's prostate but drag against it. Laurent's head lolled back.</p>
<p>Their first night together and Damen already knew his body so well.</p>
<p>"My neck." Laurent's voice was ragged, nothing but a suggestion of itself, short and breathy into Damen's chest. Damen halted. The hand on Laurent's chest trailed upward, skin sparking with the memory of the touch. The straps of the bra had long since fallen from his shoulders. Damen's hand rested warm around his throat.</p>
<p>Laurent said, "One mark."</p>
<p>For him. For them. Something no one could deny them.</p>
<p>"<em>Yes</em>."</p>
<p>Gently cupping his chin, Damen ran the pad of his thumb along the line of Laurent's jaw and tipped his head so that his neck was vulnerable. Damen’s lips brushed the fine skin there. Kissed a pulse point. Tenderness turned to voraciousness, mouthing at oversensitive skin.</p>
<p>Laurent shivered, his own hands finding purchase in the arm by his face. He kissed the taut muscle there, wanted to hide himself in the crooks and curves of Damen's body. Damen nipped at his neck, just shy of breaking the skin.</p>
<p><em>Sink your teeth into me</em>, Laurent wanted to say, but his knees were buckling under him.</p>
<p>That was the final straw for Damen. He held Laurent by the hips, fucking into him fast and hard. Laurent moaned openly, he didn't know where to look, where to put his hands, all he knew was that it felt <em>good</em>.</p>
<p>"<em>Laurent</em>," Damen gasped into his hear. "<em>Laurent</em>—god<em>, you're perfect.</em>"</p>
<p>The crash of his orgasm washed over him, legs shaking, heaving breaths as Laurent came into Damen's hand. Damen followed suit, stiffening around him, fingers threatening bruises. By the end of it, they were a panting, sweating mess, laid out on their forgotten costumes, liberal in their gazing—marveling—at the other.</p>
<p>The thud of the music was a welcome ache in his bones.</p>
<p>Thumbing along Laurent's waist, Damen said, "Are you alright?"</p>
<p>"I've never felt better."</p>
<p>Damen smiled.</p>
<p>"Though," Laurent said, chuckling when the dimple vanished from Damen's cheek. "We’re doing it without the condom next time."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://vermeillons.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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